Want More
by Aida
Summary: What are Jan's dreams? Set right after Boys and Girls.


_One of the goals of these women seminars is to feel out if there's any standouts. Women who could be a valuable addition to our corporate life_

Jan Levinson smiles pityingly at her reflection in the ladies' room mirror as she remembers what she told the camera a couple of hours ago. She knows what she must have sounded like – like she was looking down on those women who revealed their dreams of SUVs and houses with upstairs terraces and walk-in closets.

That's probably what the company would expect from her. Dunder Mifflin really was looking for women who stood out, who were intelligent, creative and dedicated to their work. She was one of them. Attractive, confident, better at her job than many men before her.

And I'm good at public speaking, she thought mockingly, searching her purse for a pill. She was getting a headache. Painkillers would certainly be in order.

It must be the weather and the low atmospheric pressure.

Well, maybe all this talk of dreams has added just a little bit to the headache.

Jan used to have dreams, too. Dreams that weren't much unlike Kelly's or Pam's, to be honest. She dreamt of a house with a big kitchen where she could teach her daughter how to cook (it didn't matter that she herself has never really mastered that skill) and a backyard where her husband could play basketball with the kids. She dreamt of them, those little children with his eyes and maybe her hair.They would have chubby ankles and dimples, and they would grow into beautiful boys and girls.

And she would be a wonderful mother, the perfect balance between a working woman and a caring mom. She would always make it to the nativity play, no matter how many corporate meetings were scheduled for her.

She fooled herself so, so bad. She knew her husband didn't want kids, but she still made the typical mistake of believing she could change him.

She never did and here she was, no ring on her finger and the Gould part mercilessly cut off her last name.

She has tucked that dream in the back of her mind for now. It's safer that way. She'll hopefully bring it back one day, air it and clean off the dust, but that won't happen until she meets someone who her kids could inherit beautiful eyes from and who will seem like he would enjoy playing basketball with chubby-ankled second graders.

So really, who is she to judge others' dreams? It's silly to think that staying sober is less ambitious than climbing up the wobbly corporate ladder. And that's the answer the corporate would be pleased to hear. Is a desire to own an SUV really that laughable? After all, Kelly also wants the kids to drive them in this SUV. Just like her, really.

And is she all that different from Pam? She remembers a video Michael made her watch over a year ago, one of his dreadful Dundies ceremonies. Among all of his antics one thing stuck in her memory: Pam's fiance accepting her Longest Engagement Dundie. If Jan knows anything about people, than one thing was for sure: Pam is as much in denial as Jan was in her failed marriage. That guy is never going to give Pam what she needs, be it a happy marriage, a house of dreams or a chance to pursue her interest in art.

Jan wonders if Pam will realize it before it's too late.

Because Jan did and leaving her husband was the most difficult thing she had ever had to do in her life. For she still loved him, even when she put the final signature on the divorce papers she still did. And she hated herself for that decision, but she knew it was the only way to go for her. Otherwise, she'd end up hating him, herself and probably every woman she'd see holding a baby in her arms.

Jan-in-the-mirror sighs, for a split second marring the image of a proffessional woman she's so used to maintaining that it's second nature to her.

She's slowly learning how to live without him and with her dreams put on hold. Apart from breaking down in front of Michael that night after Chili's, she's doing rather well.

On the outside, at least.

She knows what to tell herself. She's been reading about it in women's magazines for years, when she was bored on the plane or in the dentist's waiting room. It was all there, in colorful headings. Reading all those articles is paying off now. She just has to remember the basic rules.

You're independent.

You're better off single.

You don't need kids to make your life complete.

So she repeats all those words in her head like a mantra, holding on to the glossy slogans as if they could stop her from falling apart. As if they could make her believe that she doesn't actually want more than that.


End file.
